The Millicent Bulstrode Guide to Being 'Good'
by MaryRoyale
Summary: Running a successful public relations company is never easy, but when all of your clients are Slytherins then it's like herding recalcitrant dragons. Still, there are worse things a person could do for a living... right? Millie-centric. Non-canon pairings.


**_The Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition- Season 2 Finals Round 1_**

**_Team:_**_ Falmouth Falcons_

**_Author: _**_MaryRoyale_

**_Position:_**_ Beater #2_

**_Finals Round 1 Challenge: _**_Beater #2 must use __'It was gross at the beginning, but you kind of get used to it...'_

**_Official Disclaimer_**_: The original characters of this story are the property of the J.K. Rowling. No infringement of pre-existing copyright is intended. It is my contention that this work of fan fiction is fair use under copyright law. No monies received for receipt of this work. _

**_Pairing: _**_There really aren't any for sure overt pairings in this story.  
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_**Prompts: **__"When virtue has slept it will arise more vigorous." Friedrich Nietzsche, A Nietzsche Reader, Pernicious (word)_

**_Rating:_**_ T__  
><em>**_Word Count:_**_ approx. 3100_

_**Warning:**__ Um… Slytherins?_

_**A/N:**__ I blame the quote they gave me. It made me think of Slytherins and the rest of this just sort of… happened. _

/\/\/\/\/\/\

**The Bulstrode Guide to Being 'Good'**

Just because the Bulstrode family had somehow made it out of the war in one piece wasn't due to anything more than luck and happenstance. Was it Millicent's fault that she happened to be friends with a large number of people who desperately needed help polishing up their image? She wasn't stupid enough to let an opportunity like that just slide on by, and thus Bulstrode Public Relations Firm was born. Most of the time it was a fairly easy job and Millicent just had to go down the list. Sometimes… whenever her friends were involved… it seemed to be that much harder.

**Step 1- Appearances are **_**Everything**_

"Why in Merlin's name would I donate money to Mudbl-," Draco paused at the fulminating glare Millicent Bulstrode cast in his direction. "What?" He demanded.

"Honestly, Draco, it's as though you _want_ to fail," Millicent complained. He might be one of her very best friends, but there were times when she longed to just dump his account and walk away. Unfortunately, the amount of money involved was positively obscene, which meant that she would put up with quite a lot from Draco Malfoy. She scowled at him across the room. "Repeat after me: Muggleborn."

"Muggleborn," Draco repeated sullenly.

"And the reason that you want to donate money to the Hogwarts' Muggleborn Scholarship Fund is because it makes you look good," Millicent reminded him.

"But I don't give a toss about the little blighters," Draco protested.

Millicent rolled her eyes at him. "Of course you don't. Draco, darling, if you only donated money to things that you cared about you would be donating to yourself and that's just ridiculous."

Draco rolled his eyes. "I care about things," he muttered.

"Name one," Millicent challenged him.

"Erm, Quidditch?" Draco hazarded.

Millicent sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger. "Fine, I will contact Headmistress McGonagall and see if we can create a Muggleborn Quidditch Scholarship. I'm going to tell you right now that she's going to want it open to all four Houses."

Draco pursed his lips thoughtfully. "What if we suggest it? That makes me look good, right?"

Millicent smirked at him. "There's hope for you yet."

**Step 2- The Public's Memory is Short**

"I don't want to throw a Christmas party for snot-nosed Mud-, er, Muggleborns," Blaise protested. He frowned at Millicent. "I donated cartloads of galleons to them."

"That was last year, love," Millicent reminded him with a tight smile. "You need to do something this year as well, and it would be good for your image to be seen hugging and kissing small Muggleborn children."

Blaise recoiled and stared at her with a horrified expression. "I—you want me to _touch _them?"

Millicent sighed heavily and cast her eyes toward the ceiling in a futile bid for patience. "Blaise… they're just children."

"That's the point," Blaise retorted. "They drip from every possible orifice. It's unsanitary!"

"All I'm asking is a half hour of your time," Millicent pointed out.

Blaise snorted. "And a sack full of my galleons."

Millicent smirked at Blaise. "That goes without saying."

The Christmas party was an unmitigated success. The children were all having a lovely time, there was plenty of cake and tea, and the Daily Prophet had snapped several pictures of Blaise dressed as Father Christmas with small children on his lap. Millicent watched him with a sense of pride. He caught her eye and flashed his megawatt smile, the one that made her knees go weak, and Millicent nodded back. She moved to stand next to him.

"You're doing very well," she murmured in between small children. "I'm so pleased that you agreed to play Father Christmas and let them sit on your lap."

"It _was_ gross at the beginning, but you kind of get used to it...," Blaise confided as he reached forward to lift a child onto his lap. He spoke warmly to the child, handed it a candy cane and then sent it along its way. He glanced up at Millicent with a thoughtful expression. "They're not that bad, really."

"Muggleborns?" Millicent asked curiously.

"Children," Blaise clarified.

Millicent blinked. "Oh. Well, that's good then," she replied.

**Step 3- Everyone Loves a Wedding**

The door to Millicent's office burst open and Pansy Parkinson flounced in as only she knew how to do. She threw herself into one of the plush chairs across from Millicent's desk and looked up at her with a tragic expression. Millicent bit her lips to keep from laughing at one of her best friends and leaned back in her chair.

"How can I be good?" Pansy asked with a carefully practiced pout.

Millicent quirked a brow at her. "You don't want to be good."

"Yes I do," Pansy argued.

"Why?" Millicent asked.

"Can't I just want to be good?" Pansy's pout grew more pronounced.

"You could if you were anyone else," Millicent admitted. Then she shook her head. "What's really going on, Pans?"

Pansy sighed dramatically. "I'm in love," she announced.

Millicent snorted. "Right. Who is it this week?"

"Dean Thomas." Pansy eyed her fingernails critically. "He's practically perfect in every way."

"He's a Muggleborn," Millicent pointed out. She glared at Pansy. "He's also a Gryffindor, which is even worse!"

"So?" Pansy scowled at Millicent. "You're always on about this is a brave, new world and we have to get along with the Muggleborns."

"That's not exactly how I phrased it," Millicent retorted.

Pansy waved a hand airily. "That's not the point. Now help me convince Dean Thomas that I'm the perfect woman for him."

"You do realize that the Gryffindors call you 'the girl who tried to hand Potter over to the Dark Lord'," Millicent cautioned her best friend.

"That's ridiculous," Pansy argued.

It was. They actually had a much shorter, much ruder nickname for Pansy, but Millicent wasn't about to tell her that.

"This is not going to be easy." Millicent sighed heavily.

"You love a challenge," Pansy reminded her.

Millicent gave a short nod. "Yes, fine."

"Excellent. When do Muggles marry?" Pansy asked.

"What?" Millicent stared at Pansy.

"You always say that a good, public marriage is excellent for positive PR," Pansy explained.

"Pansy, darling, you and Dean aren't even a you and Dean, yet," Millicent protested.

"Yet," Pansy agreed.

Millicent closed her eyes and counted to ten. "Let's just take things slowly, shall we?"

**Step 4- Always Prepare for the Worst**

"What do you mean you punched Harry Potter in the mouth?" Millicent demanded. Her nostrils flared and her eyes flashed dangerously. She threw her hands up in the air. "Do you hate me Draco?"

"What?" Draco glared at Millicent. "Don't be ridiculous. Of course I don't hate you."

"Why are you doing this to me?" Millicent asked.

"I'm not doing anything to you!" Draco insisted.

Millicent put her hands on her hips and glared at Draco. "You punched the Boy-Who-Lived! This is a PR nightmare, Draco!"

"The wanker deserved it," Draco muttered rebelliously.

Millicent ignored him. "Maybe I can bribe somebody at St. Mungo's to declare you insane."

"I am not insane!" Draco protested loudly.

"That's a matter of some debate," Millicent told him.

"He called you Machiavellian," Draco muttered with a scowl.

Millicent blinked. "He what?"

"He said that you were Machiavellian," Draco repeated.

A slow smile curled Millicent's lips. "Draco, do you even know what that means?"

"It sounded bad." Draco sipped at his Firewhiskey.

"It means that he thinks I'm cunning and unscrupulous," Millicent informed him smugly.

Draco blinked. "Oh. So it's a compliment?"

"I doubt he meant it that way, but he's a Gryffindor," Millicent replied with a dismissive wave of her hand. She smirked at Draco. "You're going to have to apologize. Rather publicly, I'm afraid."

"No." Draco tossed his blond hair.

"Yes," Millicent retorted. "Draco, you don't have a choice."

"I hate my life," Draco sighed.

"I know you do, darling," Millicent soothed him.

**Step 5- Plan for Contingencies**

"Dean asked me to marry him," Pansy announced triumphantly.

Millicent looked up from her paperwork. "Did he?"

"Well, practically. He wants me to move into his flat with him," Pansy clarified.

"Really?" According to Millicent's sources that was an important step in Muggle relationships. "And what did you say?"

"Well, I told him I would have to discuss it with my parents." Pansy played with the small fern on Millicent's desk.

"You didn't, did you?" Millicent asked cautiously. Bartoldus Parkinson would have an apoplectic fit if he found out his daughter was dating a Muggleborn—let alone living with one.

Pansy laughed. "Don't be silly, Millie. It was an excuse to come see you."

Millicent blinked and then smiled at Pansy. "That was very well done."

Pansy preened. "I know. Now, what do we do?"

"Well… it means he's definitely serious about the relationship," Millie offered. She twirled a lock of hair around her finger while she thought. "But if you do move in with him and the relationship falters… it will be difficult to obtain a contract with a Pureblood family."

Pansy nibbled on her lower lip. "What if I don't care?" Pansy asked in a subdued voice.

Millicent stared at Pansy for a minute. "You really care for him, don't you?"

Pansy flushed. "I think I really do love him," she admitted.

"Oh." Millicent hadn't expected that. Pansy had been her one of her best friends for years—since they were small children—and Pansy was the quintessential Slytherin. She had assumed that when Pansy married it would be for money and power.

"He told me that I was pernicious," Pansy confessed with a small smile.

Millicent smiled back. "Flattery _is_ the fastest way to your heart."

Pansy shrugged. "He's different."

"Okay, Thomas is different. If that's the case then move in with him. This is an important step in Muggle relationships." Millie watched the expressions on her friends' face.

"Okay." Pansy nodded to herself. "I'll do it."

**Step 6- Present a United Front**

"I need you," Blaise begged shamelessly.

Millicent flinched. "No, you don't," she protested. "You have scads of wizards and witches that would love to be seen on your arm. Floo one of them."

Blaise shrugged. "They're all vapid and insipid. If I'm going to be stuck at this event for hours on end I'd rather have someone at my side who can hold up his or her end of the conversation."

"Blaise," Millicent sighed.

"You have to have a date, too," Blaise pointed out with annoying accuracy. "We could just go together."

"Why are we even going to the," Millicent paused and peered at the invitation on her desk, "Bridge Society's Annual Gala?"

"It's Potter's baby," Blaise explained with a shrug. "Draco wants to go, but he won't go by himself."

"So be _his_ date," Millicent suggested.

Blaise shot Millicent a look that suggested that he expected better of her. "He wants to appear available."

"If he went alone that would make him appear available," Millicent insisted stubbornly.

Blaise rolled his eyes at her. "It would make him appear desperate, darling," Blaise chided. "Huge difference."

Millicent's eyes widened as understanding dawned. "Oh."

"So you'll be my date?" Blaise asked with a hopeful expression.

Millicent busied herself by flipping through her appointment book so that she wouldn't have to look Blaise in the eye. The date of Potter's gala was distressingly free. Millicent scowled at her appointment book.

"I'm free that day," she admitted.

"Excellent." Blaise stood up. He leaned forward to buss Millicent on the cheek, but she turned at the last moment and his lips brushed hers. He stared at her, frozen for a moment, and then he shook himself. "I'll pick you up at 8?"

Millicent shook her head. "It starts at 8. Pick me up at 9."

Blaise smiled slow and easy, and Millicent fought to control her breathing.

"I'll be there," he promised.

**Step 7- Expect Surprises**

"Miss Granger, what an unexpected surprise. How can I help you?" Millicent asked cautiously.

"I need your help," Granger announced. She grimaced slightly. "I assume you've seen the papers."

Anyone who didn't live under a rock, and possibly even those who did, had seen the papers. While Millicent tried not to live vicariously through the gossip rags Draco and Blaise had no such compunctions. They had carted in stacks of Witch Weekly, the Daily Prophet, and Merlin only knew what all. She had been forced to listen to Draco and Blaise give her a breakdown of Granger's love life and her disastrous break-up with Terry Boot.

"I have," Millicent admitted with a grimace of her own. She watched as Granger flushed an unbecoming shade of red. Millicent was intrigued. Why on earth had Granger come to _her_ of all people? "Why me, though? I would have thought that you would go anywhere else."

Granger twitched. "Pansy." Granger sighed heavily and dragged a hand through her bushy hair.

Millicent blinked. "Pansy? Parkinson?"

Granger nodded. "I've met her at several get-togethers. When… when this all happened she sent me an owl and all it said was 'Go see Millie'," Granger paused and gave her a slight smile. "I assumed she meant you."

"And you trusted her?" Millie goggled. The blind trust of Gryffindors was… daunting.

Granger twitched again, and the unbecoming red was back. "I may have also researched you, a bit," she muttered.

Millicent quirked a brow and smirked. "Thank Merlin. If you had come here on blind faith alone I would have had to refuse."

Granger blinked at her. "Then you'll help?"

"I suggest, Granger. You decide whether or not to follow through," Millicent corrected her firmly. She sighed. So far she hadn't had to deal with Gryffindors, and the thought of cleaning up _their_ messes filled her with an icy, gripping horror. Millicent narrowed her gaze at Granger. "No one can know I'm helping you."

Granger frowned at her. "But-," she started to protest, but Millicent waved a hand at her.

"It will be better for you in the long run. The last thing your image needs is to be seen consorting with Slytherins," Millicent explained. Her lips twitched in amusement. "Besides, I work better from the shadows."

Granger blinked at her again. "I'm sure you do," she murmured.

"How averse are you to Draco's company?" Millicent asked thoughtfully.

"What?" Granger's mouth opened and closed in a disturbing way. "Isn't he… well, not really interested in women?"

"Of course, that's why he would be perfect," Millicent pointed out.

"He would?" Granger's brow wrinkled uncertainly.

Millicent rolled her eyes. "Among purebloods, which are the primary audience for the Daily Prophet and Witch Weekly, a witch is judged by the company she keeps. Draco, for all his many and varied faults, can help you there."

"Why on earth would Draco be willing to help me?" Granger protested in surprise.

"Because being seen with you will also be good for him," Millicent explained with a shrug. The fact that Draco was hung up on Potter might enter into it as well, but Millicent was studiously ignoring that aspect so that she could sleep at night. Granger shot her a look of disbelief and Millicent leaned forward. "Despite the recent press you are still a commodity."

"You make me sound like sugar… or coffee," Granger muttered.

Millicent shrugged again. "If that makes it easier for you to understand," Millicent offered with a cool smile.

**Step 8- Personal Happiness is Overrated **

"Millie darling, I have the most wonderful news," Draco announced cheerfully. He came around her desk and embraced her, bending down to kiss her on the cheek.

"You've decided to accept the invitation to that fundraiser that I sent over this morning?" Millicent guessed with a hopeful expression.

Draco snorted in derision. "Don't be silly. No, Potter defended me. To _Weasley_," he crowed triumphantly.

Millie sighed. It might be nice to believe that Potter had somehow decided that Draco Malfoy was the center of his world, but she highly doubted that was the case.

"Draco, what exactly did Potter say?" Millicent asked. She rubbed at her temples absently.

Just because Pansy had managed to fall in love with and marry Dean Thomas—now Draco and even Blaise were making noises about finding their 'happily ever after'. Millicent wasn't even certain what that meant exactly. How could one be happy… forever? It wasn't even possible. At least, she was fairly certain it wasn't possible.

"I was shopping on Diagon Alley," Draco began.

"Of course you were," Millicent sighed.

Draco pouted at her. "Potter and Weasley were ahead of me and Weasley was complaining about that huge donation you made me give to the Werewolf Research Foundation."

"Potter must have loved that," Millicent murmured. It was no secret that Potter campaigned heavily for equal rights for werewolves, merfolk, centaurs, and other sentient magical beings.

"Weasley was saying that it was just a publicity stunt." Draco pouted.

Millicent snorted. Weasley wasn't wrong; it _had _been a publicity stunt. "And?"

"And Potter said… wait a minute… um, when virtue has slept it will arise more vigorous," Draco recited faithfully. Then he smirked at Millicent.

Millicent pinched the bridge of her nose and prayed for patience. "Draco darling, while it is nice that Potter defended you to Weasley it doesn't mean that he's willing to run off to Majorca with you."

Draco sighed heavily. "It doesn't mean he isn't, either. You need to relax a little, Millie. Let Blaise take you out."

"What?" Millicent spluttered. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"Live a little, Millie darling," Draco encouraged her. "Have fun."

Millicent snorted. "Fun?" She gave a brittle little laugh. "What use is that?"

"It's useful, Mills," Draco said earnestly. He leaned forward and touched her cheek with his fingertips. "You deserve to be happy."

"Happiness if for Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs," Millicent retorted.

"Why should they get all the good stuff?" Draco demanded.

Millicent smiled at him. "Fair point," she conceded. She leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. "Fine. Run off to Majorca with Potter."

Draco rolled his eyes. "That isn't likely to happen any time soon," he countered.

"Still." Millicent tugged on his tie. "You have my blessing."

"Good to know," Draco replied with a grin.


End file.
